Dressing Like Fake Royalty
by Quantum27
Summary: A certain Alexander Hamilton goes into a tailor shop... (One-Shot)


It was quite a lovely day in the busy city of New York. The wind was quite nice, and made a certain Alexander Hamilton have a small smile on his face. Hesitating he stopped in front of a door to a shop. He took in a small breath, and adjusted his cravat. Slowly he opened up the door. The door gave a quiet little creak. He stepped inside, and looked around.

He was in a tailor's shop. Not just any tailor's shop however. A considerably expensive one. Eliza had suggested that now he was going to be a lawyer he needed new garbs. She had then suggested this place, where her father had often went. He had tried to argue, that he didn't have enough money for the place, before realizing, that yes in fact, he did have enough money.

He walked over to the counter of the shop, and glanced around. No one appeared to be in. He checked his pocket watch. It wasn't lunch time. He frowned, the only possible reason could be that either his watch was off, or...or...well, he couldn't honestly think of another reason at the time. Knowing that someone had to come back eventually, he settled to wandering around the shop.

He lightly brushed his hand over the fabrics, pondering which he would chose to be fitted to him. He tried not to, but slowly drifted over to the more expensive ones. His eyes graced their definitely more vibrant colors. Suddenly he spotted a fabric. It seemed perfect; it was a lovely shiny green.

He gingerly picked up fabric. It also felt quite nice to his hands. There was a mirror towards the end of the room, and he held the colorful material up to him. It didn't ruin his tan complexion either. It really was perfect, and it wasn't that expensive.

He flinched as he heard the creaking of floorboards. He turned to face a tall slender man. He had appeared from the back room. "Sorry I didn't hear you come in sir," the man said, "Terribly sorry about that, the walls are awfully thick in the back room there." His voice had a southern drawl to it, and Alexander pondered which state he was originally from.

"No, it alright really...I think I've found a selection worth my while." There was a slight timidness to his voice. The young lawyer was suddenly conscious of his Caribbean accent, and tried to at least sound like he was from the colonies originally. "I do think this green compliments me, however, I could a'ways use a second opinion."

The man looked at the material, then back and him. "I believe that will look mighty fine on you young sir, come back here, and I'll measure you up."

Alexander let a out a cheeky grin.

* * *

It was nearly twenty years later when the same Alexander Hamilton stepped into the same tailor shop. The day was not busy, and the sky was gray. The wind was so fierce and warned of a coming rainstorm. Alexander had a small reserved frown on his face.

He stepped inside, the door gave a loud creak, and was hard to close. The wood must've swelled with the humidity. It looked the same as the first time he had been here, and the times since. This time he did not explore the shop. He was not hesitate. He stepped up to the counter and rested his hands upon it. Those hands were shaking even if only ever slightly.

He didn't look up from the counter when he heard footsteps. "Ah, Mr. Hamilton, how may I help you t'day sir?" He knew without looking that the man now had grey at his temples. Alexander had a feeling he would gain many grey hairs of his own soon.

"I need a-" His voice cracked, and he sighed, "I need a set of mourning clothes, if that is possible." The man was silent for a moment.

"Who died?"

Alexander struggled to form the words. "My boy Phillip...yesterday…" The man gave a grave nod.

"I know the feeling Mr. Hamilton...lost my daughter in the war, when she decided to dress up as a man and go. How did the jolly young man die." Alexander almost joked on the word 'jolly'. He knew that the man behind the counter had been Phillip's tailor too.

"In a duel. That I-" _Advised him to stupidly point his gun at the sky…?_

"No more words Mr. Hamilton. I think I have some clothes in the back that'll fit you, that way you'll have some for the funeral."

Alexander gave a bleak nod.


End file.
